


Bond's Night Off

by hyphyp



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 09:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17526341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyphyp/pseuds/hyphyp
Summary: Moneypenny and Q need help. Bond needs to invest in a DVR.





	Bond's Night Off

Moneypenny slammed on the break as she made a hairpin turn, skinning the Bentley’s front against a brick building, seriously damaging the body work and taking out a stop sign in the process. In the passenger seat, Q hissed and clung to his seat belt with a white-knuckle grip.

“Please don’t lecture me about being careful with the car right now,” Moneypenny said.

“Forget the car; be careful with me!” Q cried as she sent three dust bins flying.

Behind them, the distinct crack of a gun was followed by the ricochet of a bullet off of one of the side mirrors.  Moneypenny threw the wheel again, screeching down a tight alley way and then up a one way street going in the wrong direction. Q’s shriek of protest was drowned out by a hideous smashing sound as a lorry swerved to avoid them and crashed into a parked sedan.  It teetered, and then fell on its side, blocking the street behind them. Q swiveled his head back to watch, and then swung forward as they made another sudden turn.

“Where are we going?” he asked after several more short cuts and backtracking routes assured them they had lost their tail.

“Bond’s place,” Moneypenny said.

She slowed to a slightly less hair-raising speed and directed the car onto a street lined with impressive white townhouses. Looking through their wide windows, Q caught glimpses of paintings on walls and modern, uncomfortable-looking furniture and several small dogs. They stopped at last in front of an apartment building a few stories high. A small chandelier hung in the foyer, just beyond the glass door, and its glow illuminated the brick steps and sidewalk a short distance.

Q paused a moment, as if waiting for Moneypenny to slam on the gas pedal once more, before he clicked off his seatbelt and got out onto the sidewalk. His knees wobbled a little with relief. Before he had time to relax, though, Moneypenny had grabbed him by the elbow and was dragging him through the door and down a warm, carpeted hallway to an old fashioned elevator. On the third floor, he was pulled off the elevator and led to a white door with black metal numbers fashioned to the front – 302.

Moneypenny knocked.

There was a long silence before Q cleared his throat.

“Maybe he’s out,” he suggested.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Moneypenny said, knocking again, harder this time. “He doesn’t have a life.”

“He could be at the pub!” Q said.

“Doing what? Getting a pint and watching some footie with the lads?”

Q opened his mouth to give another suggestion – maybe he was at an opera or something (was that the kind of thing Bond would like? he honestly didn’t know) – but before he could, the door swung open and Bond appeared before them, looking terse.

He examined them quickly, eyes lingering on Q, whose knees were still knocking, his face a few shades paler than usual, and said, “It’s my night off.”

“We’ve got the whole Russian mafia chasing us,” Moneypenny said.

“It’s,” Bond repeated, slower this time, “my night off.”

“MI6 is compromised,” Q said. “Tanner’s been shot and M is on a nonstop flight to New York for the UN Summit.”

Bond sighed and pulled the towel off of his shoulder, drawing Q’s attention to it as he did so. Bond wiped his hands on it, looked back over his shoulder, and then sighed again.

“I’ve just put dinner in,” he explained.  “Can it wait forty minutes?”

Moneypenny and Q looked at each other.

“It’s a duck confit cassoulet,” Bond said. His lips quirked proudly. “I’m pairing it with a very nice malbec.”

“Never mind your duck casserole!” Moneypenny snapped.

“Cassoulet,” Bond corrected.

“They’ve broken into Q branch!” she went on, ignoring him. “They’re using our own tech against us!”

“Oh,” Bond said. He turned to Q and said, seriously, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Q cleared his throat guiltily. “Yes, thank you.”

A loud sound came from inside the flat.  It sounded like a television set. Moneypenny craned her head slightly.

“Is that EastEnders?” she asked.

“Look, I’m sorry, really, but I can’t help you,” Bond said, pointedly not answering.  “This is the first night I’ve had off in months.”

“We were chased here by the Aston Martin,” Q blurted. “They’ve put a giant dent in the side and the front fender is completely gone.”

Bond rolled his eyes upward and threw the towel back over his shoulder. He scratched his nose and then shrugged his shoulders heavily.

“The DB5?” he clarified unhappily.

Q nodded.

Bond sighed once more, obviously thinking mournfully of his duck, and opened the door to admit them.

“The rifles are in the linen closet,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> I was going through some old writing and realized I never posted this here. No idea why. Probably I thought it was too short to justify. Gave me a giggle, though.


End file.
